this is everything
by Pandastacia
Summary: Anthology of SasuSaku oneshots. AU/fanon/non-mass possible. o3. When she sits down next to him, he almost wants to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing and hadn't her parents ever warned her about stranger danger...
1. these words

title: these words  
author: pandastacia  
prompts: crystallized pineapple, dancing in the rain, red notebook, pink lipstick  
dedication: to sara. love you much, darling. chin up & here is some angst for you. :)

* * *

The concourse is perfectly thrumming with energy. Glimpsing several people passing her slow and steady steps, Sakura observes nervous anticipation, excitement, and bored resignation in rapid succession.

She wonders what people see when they look at her. Do they see a young woman setting off on a long journey? Or do they instead see a small girl who was running away from something she couldn't control? Do they _see_ her, beyond pink strands of hair that catch light at all of the wrong times yet can't catch the attention of the person she wanted most? Do other people only see hair that came close to sweeping her shoulders and the way she feebly tries to hide behind it?

Eyes fixed on the gate number on the ticket in her right hand, she withdraws into her snug black peacoat, stuffing her other hand into her pocket. Sakura's nail-bitten fingers scramble for the crystallized pineapple package around a key ring, pink lipstick, bandaids, and gloves among other things. It is something that is she always willing to buy from the airport's gift shop, regardless of how much she had to splurge to acquire it.

Some people invest in Dramamine. Sakura Haruno sates her nerves with crystallized pineapples.

Popping one into her mouth, she focuses her attention on that small piece of gummy sweetness instead of the large glass windows to her left that showcase the giant airfield with many giant monsters that feed on air and gas.

Her ticket neatly slipped into her black carry-on, Sakura continues to stroll at a leisurely pace, not in any particular hurry to get to her gate. Like usual, there is quite a bit of time to ease herself into the idea of getting into the air. Thankfully, it will be a long time between this particular flight and her next, so it is easy to think that just a few hours in the air and everything will be all better.

Perhaps not _everything_ would be alright, but enough of it would be fine enough to make her forget everything that wasn't to her satisfaction.

But not if _he_ was there.

She stops in her tracks.

Her eyes refuse to believe that he is here- that he could possibly be _here_. It wasn't his place to _be_ here. He belonged somewhere else, nowhere near a terminal. Everything he needed was there in Tokyo.

Everything she needed was him.

But, without words, he only ever seemed to confirm that he didn't need her, that her need was extraneous and unnecessary. He was a one person island, comfortable without feeling something more than apathy for the majority of society.

"Where do you think you're going?" Time seems to stand still around her as his smooth, deep voice drifted past her like everyone else in the airport. Though he stands right in front of her, she does her best to look past his neck, past the ends of hair that have slipped over the edges of his dark blue, high-cut shirt.

"I _am_ going elsewhere." She doesn't really know when her feet had stopped moving and led her to stand stationary in front of him. Maybe it had been the same moment when she had tightened her grip on the bag of candied pineapples in her pocket and dug her short fingernails into the palm of her right hand.

"Why?"

Giving up on looking around him, she looks him in the eyes, dark eyes like pitch, leaving her no way to escape and no peace of mind to ever want to. But now, she's seen more than enough and she wonders whether Odysseus, with his ears open to the songs of the sirens, had been as easily beguiled as she has always been by eyes like these.

"I don't have a reason to stay, Sasuke-kun," she says simply. Sakura knows better than to ask for him to give her a reason to stay. He has his pride and she has hers and neither would allow her to budge. Asking, pleading, begging- nothing would give her what she so desperately wanted.

She leans forward to brush her lips lightly over his cheek (_It's not cold like she thought it would be, so there must be a beating heart underneath all the blank and cold he wore like a shield.)_ for the first and last time. He is not willing to say anything, but somethings have been said and others done, leaving her with enough resolution to walk around him.

Sakura does not look back to see if he's watching her walk away. She can feel his eyes, intense as always. Perhaps he thinks that she cannot do it- that she could never survive without him. Every independent piece of her screams against what she is doing. Some part wonders sharply why she wants to let go of him while another part of her ask why she has waited so damn long. That he was like a poison digging his way into her system. Teasing him into confrontation has never been her style. Like an alligator, she waits for the opportune moment.

She will wait for him to come to her.

By now, she has found her seat and shrugs her carry-on off her arm and into her lap. Absentmindedly, Sakura politely declines the wine offered by the flight attendant and pulls out a green notebook, opening it to the first clean page she could find.

"Ouch!" The spiral of the notebook had pricked her finger, letting a drop of blood leave a mark on the otherwise pristine page.

Rolling her shoulders back, she closes her eyes and leans back into her seat.

Outside her window, it begins to rain.

* * *

_finite (for now)_

_

* * *

  
_


	2. sweet torture

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.  
**_**Dedication: to saraa! i love you much, darling! & les, but both of those are a given. :)**_  
_Notes: Lilacs mean first love. Rather fitting, I think.  
_Prompts: dragon in shining armor, wedding bells, smooth jazz

* * *

She saw him by the lilacs and open bar.

(_In the back of her mind, she couldn't help wondering if he saw her too._

_Then again, had he ever _really _seen her_?)

Sakura brushed away the hair falling into her face absentmindedly and made her way over to him. It all felt surreal yet nostalgic, like she'd done it before.

Ideas scattered before her eyes- disjointed images that made so much sense without any conscious effort on her part. She saw a bench- long pink hair that had always gotten in her way (she'd kept it for _him_)- his back to her (always never seeing her, always her seeing him).

The story of her life.

At some point, her steps had naturally transitioned from sophisticated to stalking. There was no echo of heels on the tiles of the church as she found herself, once again, looking at his back.

But this time, it felt… different.

It wasn't because he didn't know she was there, because he did. She knew it without seeing any of the corded muscles in his back tense. She didn't need to see an expression of surprise on his face because there wouldn't be any sign anyways. They were both professionals, after all.

"Uchiha." Keeping her tone formal, Sakura tried her best not to flinch as he turned around to face her. Every nerve in her body _tingled_ as his eyes met hers for the first time in eight years. Suddenly her throat was dry and she couldn't speak.

"Sakura." His voice almost made her shudder. God, she wished he would use her last name. Last names were more… They hurt less. Calling him Uchiha meant making him one of many. She could think of him like he was no different than any other one. He would be merely prey. Sakura didn't think she could deal with the way he seemed to taste her name with his tongue.

For what was perhaps the thousandth time, she wondered what had possessed her to accept this mission. How could she have thought she had what it would take to deal with her old teammate? She still remembered the sympathetic look on Tsunade's face when she asked Sakura if she would accept this mission.

Sakura couldn't help the way her skin jumped when he repeated her name. "Don't do that," she snapped reflexively.

His face was probably as close as it had ever gotten to amused in her presence. "Do what, Sakura?"

The damn man _knew_ what he was doing to her, she thought as she bit the inside of her cheek in agitation.

It was sweet torture.

Why had she decided to confront him? For most of her targets, she took care of them for afar. Was she once again giving him special treatment? She fought against the thought that, perhaps, she was giving him a chance to take her out instead because she still loved him. Sasuke had known her so many years ago and some things changed. He _knew_ that and knew her, despite everything in him that had fought against bonds such as these.

The realization hit her in the chest and she stopped breathing.

It seemed he had stopped fighting it.

Despite that, it left one question: would he fight her if she tried to complete her mission?

Her arm darted out and grasped his forearm. He didn't react, letting her lead him to the dance floor with a strange sort of quick step. She didn't recognize the song. It was an act of the moment, something reckless and hasty and perhaps there would be consequences, but wasn't the time to think gone?

She wanted to live in the moment with him for once without any calculations.

Sasuke's hands found their way to her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. For a while, everything was silence as they swayed back and forth to the beat. He was so much taller now, she thought absentmindedly, her fingers feathering the ends of his hair. It was styled similarly to how it was when they had worked together in their early teenage years.

Sakura nearly jumped out of her skin when he rested his head in the crook of her neck and mumbled something.

"Hmm?"

"I don't like this music."

She nearly choked on a giggle. "You have a music preference?"

His head and warm breath rolled against her neck.

"So now I'm privy to one of those Rarely Known Facts About Uchiha Sasuke?" she teased. "I feel so privileged."

Her ears could hear his talking, but it didn't make its way to her brain. A distant part of her mind wondered when she had become comfortable with him. It was dangerous and she felt… she felt safe. If she had to guess, she would say that he probably had a Glock hidden under his black tuxedo, a series of small knives in the seam of his lapel, and a microfilament whip among others. It wasn't like he wasn't an experienced martial arts expert as well as being able to modify his attacks in a split-second. He was dangerous with a capital "D".

Yet she felt safe.

He was probably carrying more weapons than her, she rationalized. Unlike her, he worked alone now; the Directory, her agency, had taken his team of freelancers into custody.

_He was alone_.

"Don't you get sick of it?" She was only aware of the words as they crossed her lips before her mouth snapped shut.

"Sick of music?"

Sakura could imagine how he raised his eyebrows. She used to try so hard to get a reaction from him, but now it seemed to come easy. Was it her? Or was he just less guarded than he used to be?

"No, sick of being alone. Sick of waking up alone in the morning. Sick of wondering if your life will end like this, or if it'll go on in a pattern. Sick of being completely in control of your life because the only one in your life is yourself."

Her breath caught in her throat when they stopped swaying. His body was rigid in her arms. She couldn't really explain how it _scared_ her. He was there, but not there. Now it felt like the Sasuke she had just been joking with was in the past and several galaxies away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_." Sakura didn't know what the apologies were for. Maybe she was saying words he couldn't say, for leaving her in the cold that day ten years ago. Perhaps it was for the near-death experience by his hands two years later. There was the possibility that it was causing him pain, even after all the pain he had caused her.

He slowly lifted his head up; she was met with blank eyes.

"All those years ago, I thought you'd give up this all as a crush." Every word was almost silent yet delivering the weight of a boulder. She flinched at the way his fingers lightly touched her cheek. "I thought it'd be for the best.

"But then we met at Orochimaru's hideout and the… _feeling_ you gave off wasn't any different. The only difference was when you nearly… well, when you almost… I don't know. Something changed and it's been weird since.

"It's not like I don't know what you want. You want someone to save you. But I'm a dragon in shining armor, not a man in a tin can. You think I'm that knight… but that's not me. You have some idea what I've had to go through- the massacre, Itachi, the truth... You'll never be able to exactly understand and… I'll never be able to promise you anything… and if I do? It might be a lie."

It was an apology in more words than she needed to hear. Sakura felt a few tears drip down her face, but she ignored them as the man she had been waiting for what felt like several forevers awkwardly wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.

Their faces drew closer and the distance grew nonexistent.

Sakura fancied that she heard wedding bells in the distance.

* * *

In the morning, Sasuke woke up.

He wasn't alone.

_Finite_

* * *

So there.

It's emotionally messy because… well, if you were in Sakura's shoes, would you be coherent?  
But reviews would be helpful. I honestly was mentally incoherent writing this. Saraa could tell you how I was whining that it sucked like no other (mainly because I'm unsure how to write Sasuke).  
I feel a bit better about it now, though.  
So yes! Reviews!

_Song: "Impossible" by Shontelle_

---s!


	3. Broken

_**Dedication: For Saraa. I love you much & eventually, the pieces will all fall together. This is for you. Feel better.**_  
_**Prompts: Chocolate Cake, sparkly nail polish, black leather, falling out of ten story buildings.**_  
_**Notes: Concrit will always be appreciated! & it **_**is_ from Sasuke's POV. Just so you all know. & this is a freakishly fast update. I'm sorry to say you can't always expect it. This is a Special Circumstance.  
Notes Pt. 2: If you want to give me a prompt, feel free to PM me it or put it in a review. :)_**

* * *

It all means nothing.

On the family room's black leather couch sits a piece of cake. All he can do is stare bleakly at its moist crumbs falling out of it onto the cheap paper plate. He tries not to think about what his parents will say if they catch even the slightest hint of Hershey kisses in the air.

Then again, if his father ever comes home instead of sleeping at the office, he probably will be too busy simply making sure that no one in the family burnt the house down to notice anything else. His father never had known much about family. It's a family curse; marry some eligible woman, have kids, and ignore everything except work afterwards. Sometimes he wonders if his father is ever lonely, but he always dismisses it.

He doubts his father has a heart.

His mother will just coo over how _nice_ it is of other people to think about him and his birthday. She will never realize that chocolate has never, is not, & never will be his favorite flavor of cake because she, like everyone else, is guilty of not knowing him. She is too busy trying not to fall apart to even try to understand her own son.

Glowering at the amount of confetti on the ground (Had anyone ever considered who will have to clean up the beer cans and paper plates and who will be the one to take out the trash before the house's owners return? Of course not), he goes upstairs to find the vacuum cleaner. Without bothering to look in its appropriate closet, he stomps over to the room on the far side of the landing. He throws open the door, ignoring his older brother's name in all of its peeling red stenciled glory.

His brother is lying on the ground, staring blankly at the ceiling. The whole room reminds him of a twisted movie. Everything is clean, but that is not that much of an accomplishment. There's a bed, a closet of clothes, and a desk. It's almost like a motel room.

It all looks temporary.

Looking down at a dazed face, he kicks at his bare feet, not caring that it is hard enough to bruise. "Dude."

Slate gray eyes turn towards him. He wants to recoil; it reminds him of his father. The disdain and boredom are in them as foggy as the morning rain hitting his bedroom window. "What."

The words are slightly slurred, but just enough that the raw pain that he often looks for is swimming just below the surface. "I need to clean up downstairs, so I'm taking the vacuum." Grabbing the vacuum cleaner from the middle of the room, he turns to leave. Halfway to the door, he changes his mind.

It's at times like these when he has to pick up his older brother and tuck him into bed that he wonders how strong his family actually is. On the outside, they look like the perfect family. They have all learned their roles well; they've studied perfection and embedded all of it into themselves. The broken pieces have all been glued together into the right places.

You only have to step into the house and watch its occupants to see where everything has shattered.

"Why?" he whispers under his breath, knowing that his brother is already unconscious. It'll be three hours before he'll be crouched by the toilet, retching until there is no more to give up. It's a cycle that rinses and repeats more than he cares to remember. He's stopped crying every time he finds another still body on the floor.

Quietly leaving the room before he breaks himself, he closes the door behind him and makes his way down the stairs. Everyone has left already, probably because there had been no more beer to be had.

Sighing, he follows their shadows, snagging a bag of chex mix, walking out onto a street dimly lit by streetlights. It's barely enough to light his way, so he walks down to the curb and sits. His legs extended into the street, he gazes up at the sky. You can almost see stars out here; it's far enough away from the city that the lights don't blind everything else out, but there's still enough light to give blue skies a burnt orange tinge.

He pretends the Big Dipper is right above him and that the helicopter flying overhead is a shooting star. It's at a moment of desperation. Closing his eyes, he makes one wish.

Just one wish.

"You know, sleep out here and people will think you're a hobo."

His eyes snap open. He full on glares at this… girl with her black ski cap and strange pink hair but says nothing.

When she sits down next to him, he almost wants to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing and hadn't her parents ever warned her about stranger danger and about what guys she didn't know might do to her.

But he just needs to take one look into large green eyes to know that snide witticisms cover up a lonely heart. Silently, he offers his snacks to her. Giving a small smile of thanks, she daintily dips into and gives him one of the juice pouches she had ensconced in the pockets of her jacket.

With her other hand, she brings a cigarette to her lips and inhales. All he can see is the glow of the lit end and the way the light caught itself on the small sparkles of her nail polish.

He doesn't know how long they sit there, enjoying the false sky above and sharing shy exchanges with this mystery girl. He realizes about halfway through a sentence that he never did clean up the mess back at the house and that his brother will curse whatever _moron_ left the vacuum in his way when he trips on it in his mad dash for the bathroom. When she asks what makes him laugh, he just shakes his head and continues his thought.

Regardless, it's possibly one of the first times he can remember being happy in a long time.

He manages a smile, even as the girl rests her head on his shoulder. Distantly, he hears himself mutter about how he doesn't like being touched as he rests his head on hers and closes his eyes. She just giggles and becomes still.

Falling in love, he decides later, is like falling out of a ten story building. It might hurt in the end, but until then, you feel like you have wings.

* * *

_Wow, like, super angst. Again.  
But it's the mood I'm in & what I felt was conducive to the piece.  
I hope you liked it! Feel free to tell me what you liked, didn't like, & any other random bits of information.  
Flames will be used to light up the flamer's funeral pyre._

_XOXO  
---sonya!_


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